Signs

Ahh.... home sweet home.

Nothing tastes like the beer you drink back home.


The past couple of days have been nothing but like a whirlwind for me.

An almost two-hour delay at the Bangkok airport left me feeling very, very grouchy. All because it meant I would be missing most of the Man U-Chelsea game.

And it didn't help that I actually got to the airport way earlier 'cos I was trying my darnest to squeeze onto the earlier flights. Stupidly ended up wasting away my hours at the transit lounge.

Anyhow, Man U was totally disgraceful. Fuck. A 3-1 loss is very much different from a fucking 3-0 loss.

For all my heartaching efforts running around to watch the game, you boys surely let me down big-time.

Urgh. Men.


Beer. Beer. And more beer.

And some champagne too.

That's what's been welcoming me home. Plus the company too.

Sweet.

For a moment, I can't bear to leave this place.


The decision hasn't been made. The confusion is still there.

I dread the phonecall from HK that is to come.

I wouldn't know what to say, nor how to reply.


I don't normally allow pride in my way.

Pride kills. Pride is usually the death of what happiness to come.

Still, there is still some amount of pride left in me. The pride that lets me be me.

I have already done my best. The best I could, in my current state of emotional being. All for the sake of not letting pride in my way.

If I am neither understood nor appreciated, so be it.

I will do no more.

I'm tired.

This wasn't the least expected anyway. You weren't.


"You've been reading the signs wrongly..."

The words mentioned more than a week ago still ring in my ears.

Maybe I have. I must have.

Then, you must also have been bad at 'reading signs' too, I suppose.

Let's just all take this as a very bad episode in our lives, shall we?